


To Find My Killer

by DaughterOfTheRevolution



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Devils, Djinni & Genies, Elves, Ghosts, Halloween, Hetalia Halloween, Hetaween, Horror, Kitsune, Like a Murder Mystery, M/M, Merpeople, Mystery, Romance, Succubi & Incubi, Supernatural - Freeform, There will be romance, Thriller, Trolls, Vampires, Werebears, Werecats, Werewolves, What's a Horror without Tragedy?, Zombies, all hallow's eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:25:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8430010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterOfTheRevolution/pseuds/DaughterOfTheRevolution
Summary: When a certain Serial Killer goes missing, his Vampire father would do anything to get him back even if it means kidnapping a look-a-like human and hypnotizing him into believing he is his lost child.Hetaween





	

**Author's Note:**

> Daughter Of The Revolution: *Eminem's "Guess Who's Back?" Starts playing in the background* Welp, thought I'd give this fanfic-writty thing a go again. And, since we're all in the spirit and season, what better way than with a Hetaween fic? Hope you guys enjoy! Thanks again, and sorry for such a long wait (if anyone was waiting for me to come back).

Love; what a useless emotion. Not only does it take up space inside a being filled with more important feelings to dwell upon, but it is of the more dangerous senses that can take over one's entire entity until it drives the host mad with desire or obsession.

What a grip said emotion had on Mr. Arthur Kirkland. It had completely taken over his rationality and drove him to the brink of the endangerment of his own life. He left the secure walls of his coven enclave, forsook the shadowy corners of the walkways, and the anonymity of the more populace regions in his search for the missing.

Relational love could be excusable to the more extremes this emotion bids the host to forgo in, but it still stole the Vampire from the guarded gates of the haven into a world not entirely forgotten of his kind. And how reckless he had been in his urgent search for his loved one, leaving strews of fallen corpses in his wake certainly had the authorities trailing dangerously close behind him. Not once had he looked over his shoulder like the cautionary predator he used to be. No, his gaze focused on the seemingly impossible task at hand. Where others had given up due to the wide possibilities involved in this circumstance and the bounteous energy to be wasted, Mr. Kirkland had remained steadfast and continued his journey to find the missing.

Perhaps it had been a good thing he had set his weary eyes upon young Alfred F. Jones. However, it had been by sheer accident—well, maybe Fate—that he had chanced upon the teenaged human. Dear Arthur had finally taken notice of his degradation after going months without a meal. And what a good thing he had settled himself into a subconscious fast, the authorities were still wondering over his latest victim some four months back left in a city long past and of no relation to the town he stumbled upon now.

But even in his hunger then his prowling sorely lacked his usual cunning endeavors. However, the night he could stand the hunger in his soul no longer came upon a perfect opportunity for the Vampire. It was All Hallow's Eve, or, as the modern humans would come to call it, Halloween. Young folk were dressed in entirely different characters such as they'd never seen before, nor did they realize existed. While the little waddled off to collect sweets of their own, the older children gathered at homes, stations, and buildings to spend the rest of the night in a state of bliss and often times intoxication. There were a select few who took to the haunted trails just for the thrill of their peers and a giggle between each other, but there were others who saw these tales as history with backing to being chanced to see a portal into the past regimes.

It had been indeed Alfred's friend, Lisa, whom Arthur had come upon in the middle of a dark graveyard where he kept himself away from the public when times were needed to. His meal had come to him and he did not see to this opportunity slipping away from him. He was famished, exhausted, and so very troubled.

Arthur would move on from this currently searched town before the authorities found this young woman's body. So he intended to make his kill quick and painless, but when the company turned into two, he reserved himself and waited in the darkness of the tombstones and crypts for a better time.

"BOO!"

"AH!" Lisa quickly turned around, clutching her chest to calm her thumping heart. Wide eyes focusing in on her would-be attacker. "Jesus Christ, Alfred! Don't scare me like that!"

Alfred chuckled from behind his Jason-themed hockey mask and put his fake machete back into the holster on his hip. "Scare _you_ , Lisa? You're the one in a fuckin' graveyard tryin' to capture ghosts."

Alfred and Lisa had been friends since the First Grade, and were, in fact, the only ones left from their circle of friends not yet shipped off to college. Alfred's reason for holding off his education was for a time to relax while out of school—no doubt his parents would force his enrollment come his birthday next year—but Lisa's reason was familial business.

"Yes, and once again you've scared them away, _Jones_." The girl groaned while trying to fix her camera and erase the ruined footage during her flailing scare. What a shame she had. She would have captured the perfect posture of a bated Vampire stopped still from his desired assault.

"Tough shit. It's because no one wants to mess with this noble hero here." As in a playing gesture, Alfred puffed his chest and flexed his muscles to emphasis his statement. But it only made Lisa laugh and bump past him.

"Really, Alfred? You're some 'hero' dressed like a serial killer." Lisa flicked the white mask off of Alfred's face the moment she moved past him and made her way over markers.

In the teenager's playful bickering amongst one another, neither had noticed the lurking monster watching their every move. Neither had even come to realize that Mr. Kirkland had decided he was depleted enough to take the both of them into his mouth. Unbeknownst to both of them they had not understood the salvation of their lives had come about, swaying this old Vampire's mind from visions of lifesaving blood, due to the fact of the revealed face of the American boy.

How struck, how befuddled Arthur was, and now, instead of watching from where he sat upon a mausoleum, he stalked closer, dangerously close. He shifted from tomb to stone, to tree to gate. The night hid him well, and the occasional breeze from the south swept the fallen leaves, hiding the crunches and snaps underneath his shoes as he motioned ever closer.

"Are you done yet here, Lisa? I've got a _ton_ of candy back home and it ain't eatin' itself. Plus, I rented all of the classics, we're so gonna watch them all tonight!"

Lisa halted and scrunched up her face, looking back at Alfred who walked just a step behind her while she continued her embellishment into the spiritual world. "Did you go out trick-or-treating _again_?"

Alfred shrugged. "Why not? Probably will be my last chance anyways. Besides, there was nothing better to do. All of the costume parties around here suck since everyone was whisked away to college."

"Yeah, and you should have been too," Lisa reminded. She then turned her attention back to her recordings, hoping to catch something on camera or at least on the audio to show her parents back home. "Honestly, you skipped _another_ year. I don't see why."

"Hey, don't scold me, Miss Prissy-pants. You're not going to college either, so you ca—"

"Wait! Quiet!" Lisa quickly demanded, noticing something as she turned her camera around. She could have sworn she caught something behind Alfred while the boy went on a rant.

"What, what?!" Alfred turned around, eyes wide and heart hammering in his chest.

"No! Turn back around!" Lisa demanded, pulling on the boy's arm to twist him back around. "I think I saw . . . wait . . ."

"Come on, Lisa, this isn't funny." Lisa captured every frightened feature of Alfred's, but she was more focused on those strange two orbs she had seen almost peeking out behind a tree trunk.

"Oh, hush," she scolded. "You came here on your own free will. It's your fault for not respecting the spirits."

Alfred chuckled nervously. It was obvious by the way sweat slid down his temples and eyes continued to try to glance behind him despite Lisa's firm grip on his still stance. "It's because they don't exist," he said between clenched teeth ready to chatter.

Lisa held her focus on the background shapes in her viewed screen, searching for any sign of the otherworldly while trying to calm her friend so his fright doesn't startle what she was looking for away. "Yeah, well if I can get some visual proof you won't be able to be a doubter forever, Alfred."

The recording camera had caught the boy furrow his brow. His lips continued twitching down until a frown dominated his usual perky demeanor. Wide eyes wouldn't stop trying to peek behind in fright that there was possibly something really there.

Alfred clearly didn't hold a lot of patience in his being, especially when the situation seemed a little too extreme in a category he wasn't comfortable with. And so when he zipped his body around to catch any sight of whatever may be behind him of course his friend would groan and scold.

"Al!" Lisa groaned, rolling her eyes as she maneuvered around her friend to capture what she had been focused on. After a sigh left her lips it was noted her angle and focus was lost. There was nothing to record any longer. "Thanks a lot. I thought I was onto something."

"'Onto something'?" Alfred questioned, raising a brow before shoving his hands into his pockets so that none were the wiser that his limbs had indeed begun to tremble. "Lisa, you really need to call it a break. Graveyard and all its 'wispy inhabitants' aren't going anywhere anytime soon." Inch by inch, Alfred began making his way back toward the walkway they had neglected in favor of hopping over tombstones. "Come on, let's finish tonight by getting high off candy!"

It was clear that the girl wanted to stay. What a good thing it was that her friend had persuaded their early departure. She might have ended up yet another victim of a Vampire whom decided to continue his forgo to intake needed nourishment. But, perhaps not. Mr. Kirkland seemed rather fixated on keeping his locked gaze upon the teenagers, especially the boy, more so than settling his teeth into a warm lively flowing body.

He had followed them, stalked them back to the boy's estate. It was a shame neither were as sensitive to the supernatural. If any had been then certainly these upcoming chain of events would have been prevented as well as the tragedy that would no doubt ensue once a mortal and a monster became entwined. But what a mundane and predictable way to end such a twist of fate.

There certainly seemed to be no stopping Arthur when he had focused the entirety of his senses on the boy. After all, he had been searching for so long, fearing that what the others had said, had sworn, was indeed without falsity. He might have come to accept it in a way once he had chanced upon young Alfred F. Jones whom not only shared in name, but uncanny and very coincidental appearance of the Vampire's lost. And what desperation rose inside Arthur that night, ignoring the hunger in his bones if only to pursue the means to mend the empty space in his soul and unbeating heart.

He had already risked being apprehended by mortal authorities and his kind recognized in a world nearly forgotten of anything in higher form of life, as well as chanced being recorded on human devices and investigated further by individuals who excelled in the hunt. Of course the comprehension of care just wasn't there, hadn't been there for a long time. Even in his decision to attach himself to this human in hope that he may find rest for his tormented spirit there was not a care for his own being.

That night he watched them fall asleep, that night he caused the boy to dream dreams, making him toss and turn in his slumber until those blue eyes opened, wide with the remembered fright of his restless nightmares. Arthur watched him try to settle back into his bed, gaze constantly glancing back toward his friend slumbering on the futon, no doubt jealous of her state of rest. But even as he shifted and attempted to settle back into a recuperating rest, Arthur watched him. His eyes would not be deterred away from him.

A hidden away grief for the unfound began seeping into the Vampire's chest, encasing his lifeless heart into a chill, creating an act that Kirkland had tried to ignore. It was not hard as an observer to discern the desire in Arthur's gaze. The way his hands spanned out upon the glass frame of the bedroom window, moving in motion gently, slowly, the palms wanted to grasp and digits to curl into a body to hold, to pull close. And Arthur Kirkland might have done just that hadn't the sudden change of hue in the sky above begin lightening to signal the alarming oncoming steps of the rising sun.

Arthur didn't want to turn his eyes away, nor hide himself in places where he could not keep his watch over this human child. However, the light of the day warded him away in his own need of self-preservation. But Mr. Kirkland did return the following evening, and again forsook the growing need to replenish his energy through the means of a meal just to lock his gaze onto one so familiar and yet unacquainted.

Rationality was long gone from him, more so now that his attention was so enchantingly held by this human. The very sight of him disrupted Arthur's state, his presence pulling him closer to the mortal, dangerously and unwisely nearer.

But even while Mr. Kirkland's intent didn't seem to be that of fascination over a particularly sly meal, his mere close proximity had unsettled the human. Of course this Alfred F. Jones seemed quite flustered in his confusion over his unease. He was often observed shivering at strange inconvenient times, especially when the weather had yet begun to receive the capable chill of trembling flesh.

Even for a human so out of touch with spirituality, that unnoticed sixth sense seemed to warn him of another's unseen eyes upon him quite often.

"What's up with you now, Al?" Lisa questioned after slurping up her soft drink and pushing her food tray aside. Her blue eyes glanced down at the barely touched burger meal of Alfred's. "You daze in and out and have hardly touched your food. Stayed up late again?"

Alfred sighed, bringing his hand up to let his fingers slip under his glasses and massage his eyes. "Yeah," he answered. "Well, actually, I went to bed at a decent time, but . . . I just couldn't stay asleep."

When Alfred caught the sly grin of his friend's he groaned, narrowing his eyes. " _Don't_ , Lisa."

"You're still having nightmares since the graveyard, aren't you?" She snickered, biting her teeth into the plastic straw of her drink.

"It's not funny," Alfred protested. "At least not anymore."

"It's been two weeks since Halloween, Al," she reasoned. "Surprised you're still so spooked. Maybe you should lay off the sweets before bed; I heard that can cause uneasy rests."

"I know, I know. I've looked up all the remedies, but nothing works." Alfred really looked exhausted as he leaned over the table, his head lain down on his folded arms. Lisa can honestly say she's never seen him so defeated before.

She was quiet for a moment, pondering suggestions. "You know, my mom might be able to help . . ."

"I don't want help from a psychic Madame," Alfred dejected quite quickly.

"Fine, fine." Lisa minded her own and continued slurping up the rest of her drink contents. "You'll change your mind if this persists."

And it did.

Alfred constantly found himself tossing and turning in his bedchamber. Sweating, moaning, and then gasping as he awoke to the uneasy darkness surrounding him. These had unfortunately become his regular nights of which he tried to keep hidden from those close to him. But his parents took notice of his lag in responses during the day, and his friends quickly tried counseling him to act upon remedy suggestions.

Perhaps he should have heeded their concern. There was a possibility that if he had discovered what exactly was ailing him in the night that he might have been saved from the fate that was to befall upon him.

But he didn't. Instead he let those troubling dreams lull him into an anxiety such as he'd never experienced. He labeled it insomnia, and his electrical devices were filled with sites of solutions to his perceived problems. However, nothing helped, and most nights he lay helpless to the ability of the supernatural making him dream dreams of blood and carnage and of a cold embrace and accepting lips that left prickles on his skin until his pores opened and sweat clung to him, chilling him in the night until he woke from the cold.

And now, even the glowing eyes and silhouette of a figure standing just outside his window hadn't daunted him into a startled fright. In the human's understanding; his nightmares had followed him out of his dreams, tricking him often into thinking that he was awake or even asleep on some occasions. His reality warped so horribly together that after a startling terror would open his dull blue eyes, he would stare at the figure separated from him by just a pane of glass.

There was no fright in those sapphire irises any longer, just sheer exhaustion. And Arthur Kirkland watched this degradation with indifference, more so focused on watching the way the American teenager moved, how he spoke, how he laughed, and how those eyes looked upon him like he wanted them to.

There was a need within the Vampire to call out to him, to have him come closer so that he could touch him, hold him, kiss him. This desire steadily built up the more those blue eyes looked upon him without an ounce of fright in the dulling light of the irises. And as the hunger within Kirkland grew to the point he could not ignore it, he acted.

It was quite rash, and careless. But even so done inexcusably smooth and quiet. Even with his own supernatural senses waning from lack of nourishment and energy, the old Vampire still managed to call upon the art of hypnotic seduction to call out to his admired.

And as the minutes ticked away and the Witching Hour drew near, Arthur decided to exude his influence more than ever before, running his fingers down along the windowpane, tapping ever so often. The soft sound was enough to stir the boy from his already strained sleep.

Emerald irises watched those fluttering eyes open for the first time that night. Their vibrancy he had watched whither with lack of needed rest, but even still the Vampire regarded the hue of beauty and envy. Alfred groaned out a sigh at the now expected usual inability to fall into a peaceful rest. The boy no doubt blamed their earlier endeavors in the graveyard for his restlessness—among other things—and Arthur would let him continue in that belief if only to lure him closer.

But the soft patters following were deliberate. They evoked the right reaction Arthur had wanted out of the boy. He turned his eyes back toward the window descending into his room the rays of the silvery moon and silhouette of an all too familiar dreamscape stranger.

Arthur smiled sweetly at the teenager, as he had always done before. It took some time to realize that the unfocused gaze meeting his own wasn't just a result of sleep deprivation but simply poor visual. That much was understood when the young man had reached over to the cluttered nightstand near his bed and snatched up a pair of spectacles. Once they were slung onto his face his gaze was better met, though unstartled, which was what Arthur had wanted.

Mr. Kirkland didn't smile with his teeth often, the fangs were horribly visible if a victim were given the chance of gazing at the elongated incisors for too long. His smiles, whenever they occurred, were brief; simple twitches of the lips to humor himself and induct an air of comfort when the atmosphere was cracking. He had gentlemanly smiles, polite in every sense, even if it was the last thing one saw before their life drained from them.

But there was a warm grin he would grace, and what a rarity it was to see. This more intimate gesture was only reserved for his dearest. And what an alluring expression it was. It was no doubt what kept the American human from understanding that he was looking at a monster crouched just outside his window. How privileged Alfred was to see it, but when the circumstances and coincidences were taken into consideration, there was no question as to why Arthur had looked upon the teenager and immediately fallen in love with him.

He had loved only one other, and it was this binding love that turned the Vampire's rational thoughts away. It was this love that had Mr. Kirkland influencing the boy's movements and visions in the night. The Vampire no doubt appeared as if a dream wafting over from the sleep the American couldn't fall into.

Baited into a hypnotic state of mind, it wasn't long before the nineteen-year-old moved, pressing against his window, opening his room as if in invitation to the damned spirit, but Arthur had no plans to enter the abode, instead he held out his hand, holding Alfred's gaze with his own, urging he move and act.

"Come, Alfred." The words had rung in the American's ears, but there was no twitch of recognition or flutter of eyes to apprehend what was being said and why it was.

Arthur was gentle. He didn't so much as startle the boy with any quick movement as he could have. After so long it was a wonder where he had captured this patience, after all, the Hour was almost upon them.

That November night brought an oncoming December chill in the air, but the moment Arthur had guided Alfred out of his window, the boy clad in nothing but light pajamas, he had wrapped his cloak about him, to shield him from the biting winds threatening to pull the human out of the state the Vampire needed him in. The moment Alfred was pressed against Arthur, the older had let out a sigh, content for the first time in so long that he had almost sworn he felt a beat abound inside his chest.

He took a moment, let his mind and soul settle after finally being able to hold him so close. Sharp emerald eyes scanned the boy's appearance, taking everything in from dimples to freckles and cowlicks. Even when the Vampire should have just looked him over and understood the differences, his blindness brought him into such a state that the vision of his lost danced before his gaze and he smiled again, so mournfully sad even in his current misguided happiness.

Raising a hand, Arthur had pressed his gloved palm to Alfred's cheek, the human unmoving yet still breathing—such a rarity after being captured in the embrace of the Vampire's cold arms. But there was no malice in the way Kirkland held the human, and certainly no purposed ill-intent in the way he touched him.

"Let's return home, love." Arthur had looked so happy, and probably felt the same as he carried the human away, abducting him from his home and family whom the Vampire deemed unfit to claim the young mortal any longer.

Arthur Kirkland had abandoned the world of the mortals to return to the place of his residence of which he had not stepped foot in for so long. His return was not expected, not after the witnessed grief that had overcame him upon his heartbroken departure. Yet his return was made in swiftness, himself quickly dashing back to his coven, hiding his find from curious eyes until he was within the safety of his own estate and laying down the human in the room he had believed he belonged.

Tender hands settled him into bed and a gentle kiss to the forehead poured out love that a monster such as Mr. Kirkland would deem unwise to have. Yet, even in the comfort of his own abode, in a room solely reserved for his beloved, the Vampire's senses understood that a mortal indeed was lain out underneath him, and his aching insides demanded the penetration of fangs into supple flesh and the lifeblood of this young man so that the Englishman may carry on in lengthening his already long life.

How painful it must be for a Vampire to deny himself. How agonizing it must have felt for Mr. Kirkland to pull himself away, his body simply choking him from the forced denial.

Arthur had stumbled out of the room, quickly shutting the door, bracing his frame against the wooden structure while he dug nails into the furnish and bit on his tongue to staunch himself from completing such a deed he did not consciously want.

In a hast, Arthur had returned back to the world of the mortals in search for the means to replenish his life while in doing so he had left the young human in a world full of monsters that preyed and dined on his very kind.


End file.
